She's Resplendent
by seriousblahblah
Summary: Sometimes you think you have everything you want, until you realize everything you have is a lie and nothing compares to the girl that makes you cry. "I think about her everyday." Bill shook his head, "I don't want you to see her again." Fleur/Hermione. Bill/Fleur. Complete but with sequel vignettes that continue their affair.
1. Counterfeit

Warning: Fleur's dialogue is deliberately misspelled at some parts to try to sound like her French accent

Written for: [Fairytales Assignment #6: Rapunzel; Task #3: Write about a love that has to be kept a secret; Prompts: (object) a bow for the hair; (word) blame] [50 different prompts: #8 Purple] [Fleur Delacour Appreciation Challenge. Prompts: iridescent, caress, fog, frost, migrate, quote] [Writing club September: Love Note Day (26th September): Write about someone sending a love-note.] [Fanfiction world adventures: Paris, the Louvre; Prompts: (word) Confiscated; (object) Mona Lisa painting; (word) Antique; (dialogue) "You are like art to me. Beautiful to look at, but I worry that's all there is to you."; (scenario) Someone has a large collection of expensive paintings and/or sculptures] [Chapter titles challenge: #56 Sadly Beautiful]

* * *

 _ **~o~**_

 _ **Counterfeit**_

 _ **Fleur/Hermione**_

 _~o~_

* * *

.

 ** _"Fleur,_** ** _I know I shouldn't say this,_**

 ** _but I think about you everyday. I think I might be in love with you._**

 ** _-Anon."_**

Fleur looked up and batted her long eyelashes, before rubbing at her pinkened cheeks as she re-read the note. This crumpled little note, written on a piece of torn scroll paper, that someone had dared to owl her.

She'd gotten many love letters over the years, because she was a part Veela. Because she was used to being admired on a superficial level, and sometimes on a not-so superficial level.

But something stood out to her about this letter.

It felt familiar. The ink writing _looked_ familiar.

And she thought she'd seen the handwriting once somewhere, scribbled by a particularly messy and ink covered hand; she didn't blame herself for being a bit curious.

And they say, it wa _s_ curiosity that killed the cat.

.

* * *

.

She walked beside Bill Weasley, as he escorted her along the Hogwarts grounds. They were visiting Hogwarts and Scotland only briefly so that he could continue his healing from the werewolf bite he acquired years ago. His work as a curse-breaker still took him abroad, but now there were only so many hours Bill Weasley could work before either his condition or his exhaustion (after the full moon) meant he had to take a few sick days off every month.

They usually spent that time in France or by the fresh sea air, in their Cornwall shell cottage. The place they'd spent their honeymoon oh-so-many moons ago. (Why did she measure everything by moons now? Was life cyclical? Or, as a wife of a part-werewolf, did she simply measure everything by the strokes of her husband's illness? Sometimes she thought she was suffocating in taking care of her husband's illness, while neglecting her own little desires and dreams. What were her dreams anymore? She wasn't sure.)

 _._

Bill grabbed her hand as they rounded a corner of Hogwarts. "I'd like to go in alone, there's a new healer-professor who has developed potions and balms to get rid of some of the scarring. I'd rather go in alone." He smiled apologetically. "I hope you don't mind."

"I don't." She took her hand and returned a terse smile of her own. "I'll just keep my zelf buzee on the grounds for a zee little while, hmm?"

Bill's relieved expression cut her more than his apprehension would; it was like he was trying to separate himself from her too.

Perhaps they were both lying to each other that they needed each other.

 _Bill needed her_. Fleur...? Did she need anybody? She'd always been an independent spirit, except when the French young woman felt she had to help someone.

She crossed her arms as Bill planted an almost brotherly kiss on her cheek, a chaste kiss. "I'll see you in a bit."

"Go." She waved him off and affected an encouraging smile.

Bill turned around to go towards the Hogwarts dungeons, before whipping his head back once more. He smiled and said, "Hey, Hermione is actually returning as an apprentice in Monsieur's lab class, if you want to visit her." He whipped his dark red hair out of his eyes (and briefly Fleur wondered if he suspected the same thing she did). "She speaks of you all the time. Visit her."

 _(You barely have time to catch your breath as he walks off, leaving that tidbit of information to sink slowly in.)_

.

* * *

 _It's a difficult thing to admit you love somebody._

 _A much more difficult thing to admit you love that somebody and name them._

 _Much more when they were your sister-in-law._

.

* * *

.

Hermione shifted papers and potions ingredients on her desk before plopping down in the chair with a distressed groan that came from being an apprentice with too many research papers to write and not enough time for herself or her marriage. She leaned her head back against the headrest of her chair and sighed, letting out a slow long exhale of breath until there was nearly no air left in her lungs.

She was practically choking on air—or rather the lack thereof—when somebody knocked at her door.

She expected it to be Professor Quill. Or some of the other apprentices who shared the small oak-wood office with her. So, she really had no expectations ,and her hair was a frizzy mess and her cardigan an embarrassingly bad one Molly had knit her, when she swung open the door...and there stood a vision, Fleur Delacour Weasley.

A vision because this woman looked drop-dead gorgeous no matter the day or context. (She was Veela after all. And dressed in some ridiculously pretty matching steel grey skirt and jacket with a pearl purse.)

Hermione never felt so woefully under-dressed and un-pretty standing next to her. Then again she always felt like a slob compared to this French woman with her effortless, inherited charm.

 _"Fleur."_ She breathed out in defeat.

In embarrassment, she tugged at her wretched mass of curly hair and wondered if she could cast a quick Sleekeazy or glamour charm on herself without being noticed by Fleur. Probably unlikely. Because Fleur was very observant. (for all that dumb blonde stereotype, Fleur was quite laser sharp and proud.) and if she'd suddenly looked like she had a makeup-glamour on, Fleur would notice.

"Bill told me z'you would be here," Fleur coughed politely and her iridescent blue eyes traveled across Hermione's small desk and office with curiousity.

Hermione cleared her throat and tried to dignifiedly tuck back some of her messy curly hair behind her ears.

She smiled widely, deciding to forget about her self-consciousness. (This was Fleur; she didn't get to see her often.) "I'm glad you came."

Fleur beamed back at her, returning her smile with a mega-watt smile 10,000 times lovelier than her own. Yet with true joy—or was it amusement?— in her eyes.

 _Probably amusement at my utter lack of grace and fashion homeliness,_ Hermione thought bitterly.

Of course, Fleur was so lenient to begin with; her fashion sense (or lack thereof of any beauty charms or spells) had never been criticized or pointed out by Fleur. The blonde, who herself had impeccable taste, seemed to enjoy how messy and un-put-together Hermione was. She never criticized her, but she smiled gently—in amusement.

She noticed Hermione's discomfort without having to say anything.

"Here let me feex zur hair, 'Ermionee."

And then Fleur's hands were on her hair pushing it back from her forehead as she sat down in a chair, and Fleur sat on the armrests of the chair, braiding her long brown hair with her fingers, and Hermione realized she felt a strange tingle whenever Fleur touched her. As if her whole existence weighed nothing to the fearie-like dust that seemed to fall out of Fleur's fingertips wherever she brushed against her skin or against her scalp; Hermione realized she was shivering.

Perhaps it was the Veela thing. Except Veela charm wasn't supposed to affect you unless you were a man; and she'd never cared for Fleur before. There had even been a time when she hated her as a fourth year who felt outshined by Fleur's great beauty. So why did she just feel nervous and grateful around her now? Was it just because of the great things Fleur had done to prove her worth during the war?

Fleur smiled at her as she turned Hermione around and made her stare in the mirror.

She'd put a dark purple bow around the perfect french braids she made of her tangly, unruly hair.

Her hair had never looked this good, or so delicately pretty. "Thank you."

"It is no problem," she replied smoothly in her thick French accent and smiled.

.

* * *

.

 _There were dimples in her smile whenever Fleur smiled._

 _You think, what's so special about dimples?_

 _But you keep thinking of the dimples in her smile, long after she left your office. Her smiles stay in your head long after her visit is over. She's beautiful in almost sad way._

 _You think, what is it? And then you place your own fingertips upon your forehead and wonder why it felt so good when Fleur brushed her fingers across your face. You wonder if it was just your face that would feel so good to be caressed by her..._

.

* * *

.

There was a sound of earth shaking and being parted as a silver spade was stabbed, repeatedly, into the earth's belly. Over the garden and sweat dripping down his brow, was the once-handsome face of Bill Weasley as he clutched to the spade and avoided the house.

"Zhat are you deeging?" Fleur asked, her bathrobe clinging to her svelte form as she stood over her husband in the cold early morning. Frost and fog still clung to the grass and she could feel the ground under her slippered feet was nearly frozen. It was late September.

"Gardening," Bill replied good-naturedly, sturdily avoiding her gaze as he kept his eyes on the ground and on their little plot of land in front of their house.

"It zis much too late to be gardening." In another month, the whole garden would be covered in snow.

Bill continued digging. "You're telling me this."

"Bill?"

"What?"

"I'm zorry for anything I have done, please come inside."

Bill met her eyes over his sweep of dark red hair. "You haven't done anything, Fleur. You've always been faithful."

Fleur gulped unsteadily. Because it was true that she'd always been faithful and yet that was not what he was implying.

She placed her hand over his hand that clutched the spade. She pressed lightly, keeping him still. And then her eyes noticed the bag of flower bulbs he'd been making holes in their garden for.

"Zhat are those?" she said, pointing at the bag.

Bill grimaced and he was both handsome again and bitter; the seed of doubts in his dark blue eyes marring their otherwise spectacular beauty.

 _"Fleur-de-lys,"_ he enunciated the French flower with bitter civility, and studied her face. "You do know what they mean?"

"Of course," her lips pressed into a firm almost unhappy line. "In France, zhey represent zey blood drops wherever zhey fell and formed on a field. They represent the blood drops of a fallen French king; at eveery'z drop zhere grew zhe fleur-de-lys."

"Slayed by dragons, of course?" Bill raised his brow and her cheeks flushed.

.

* * *

.

 _You think back to that day. That day that Hermione invited you over to your brother-in-law's house and then you made that foolish decision of asking Hermione if she wanted to take a tour of the Gringott's art gallery. Because it's something that no one outside of Gringotts and those who work there ever see. But you and Bill both work there and you know Hermione is dying of curiosity to see some of the artifacts and confiscated goblin antiques that are housed there._

 _So you use your access to the goblin establishment, where you and Bill are so trusted (Bill is their best curse breaker after all), to sneak Hermione in. Because you want to delight your sister-in-law with something. You want to see her eyes light up._

 _And a little too late, you realize, as you both walk the gloomy passageways of the ancient gallery, that you just wanted to see her eyes to look at you with that same wonder, as if you're something incredible and rare._

 _._

* * *

.

"You took her to our spot." Bill said. And he's not even angry. More confused.

That was one of the things in life. The longer you lived, the more likely you would go on to support the insufferable, but it didn't stop the confusion you felt at the odd things life kept throwing at you. Things you never could have expected or curve-balled.

.

* * *

.

She showed Hermione the painting of the Mona Lisa. It was one of the rarer and most valuable pieces the bank of Gringotts had acquired, for a lofty fortune. The muggles in Paris, France, still had no idea that the original had been bought by a wizard billionaire and temporarily housed at Gringotts while protective spells were placed over it.

"It is worth countless galleons," Fleur whispered.

"It is worth as much in the muggle world." Hermione smiled and leaned back against one of her legs, as she stared at the small, priceless painting. "They really have no idea in the Louvre that it's been purchased have they?"

"No," Fleur met her eyes and stared at her rather than the Mona Lisa. "Zey still think they're looking at ze real thing."

Hermione reached out her hand to grab hers without looking directly at her. "It reminds me of my own life, you think you have the real thing, but really you're looking at a counterfeit day after day."

She could feel Hermione's hand tremble in her own, and she knew immediately, for one second in this universe, she was wanted something completely.

.

* * *

.

"You are like art to me. Beautiful to look at, but I worry that's all there is to you."

She pressed Hermione against the wall and placed her cherubic pink lips against hers. Hermione struggled for a second before she started kissing her back frantically in greedy gaps in between throwing off her shirt and pushing up Fleur's skirt.

Neither had a clue what they were doing; they'd never kissed or been with another woman before. They only knew that they had this moment, this brief glimpse of truth and reality within the heavily padded and warded domain of Gringotts.

They had no idea that some of Bill's wards on Gringott's gallery would detect the sounds they made, the words they said, so that Bill would discover everything when he replayed the recordings on the wards.

.

* * *

.

A tear fell down Fleur's eyes as she continued to look at the Mona Lisa's mysterious smile long after Hermione left, and Bill had confronted her while they were both at work, at what Gringott's best curse-breaker had found.

"I don't want you to see her again."

"I can't do zhat, Bill."

.

"She's the first thing I think of in the morning and the last thing I think of at night."

 _._

* * *

 _Why do I keep thinking of her? Why do I keep thinking of her?_

 _She's back in her messy office and sitting atop her desk as she takes out a piece of scroll and sets down with a messy, nervous quill exactly what she's feeling._

 _"Fleur, I know I shouldn't say this," she writes with a messy quill and ink covered hand, "but - I think about you everyday. I think I might be in love with you._

 _-Hermione."_

 _She debates with herself over sending it. Then finally, crossing out her name heavily, she sends it and her heart flutters and is racing as she watches her snowy white owl migrate into the sky with the letter._

.

.

 _"I am a flower among the field, and the lily of the valleys". -Canticle of Canticles 2:1_

* * *

 **A/N: Any thoughts? :) I've never written femmeslash before but I hope this treated the f/f pairing respectfully xx I'm not sure they could have made it work though with Ron and Bill still their husbands and still very attached to the life they have together**

 **thanks for reading**


	2. Secret Meeting

[Fairytales Assignment #7: The 12 Dancing Princesses; Task #3: Write about a secret meeting point and what happens there.; Prompts: (dialogue) "I don't know why, but this whole secrecy thing turns me on a bit..."; (object) Invisibility Cloak][Chapter titles prompt: When Lovers Meet]

Here is some more Fleur/Hermione, thanks for following, favoriting and reviewing ;-)

I found it too difficult to try to add the accent to Fleur's dialogue so I omitted that here and this is unbetaed so I'll have to go over ch1 and this one later to try to make her accent sound French in the dialogue..without mangling it up too much. Cheers and please review to let me know what you think or don't like or do like. Thanks and bon soir?

* * *

.

 ** _Secret Meeting_**

.

"joie - _sentiment exaltant ressenti par toute la conscience"_

* * *

~o~

Hermione was feeling empty inside. That was for sure. As she sat at her desk and sipped miserably at a cup of coffee while it rained outside her London office window. It was a dreary Monday morning at the Ministry and she was well behind on a grueling stack of paperwork she had yet to complete. But that was not her primary source of misery. Hermione's thoughts were on the blonde woman she briefly kissed in the dark corridors of Gringotts.

She hadn't seen Fleur in over a week and a part of her wondered whether the blonde even cared for her at all, or whether she'd just decided that the brunette was too much trouble—and called it off.

 _I hope she called it off,_ Hermione thought to herself as she nervously bit at her nails.

She had only tasted Fleur for a little while, and it was like holding a bright spark within your hand. It couldn't last, could it? Fleur was too beautiful, too fine, too passionate and full of life for her, ordinary Hermione Granger, an Englishwoman and wife, to keep.

"What was I thinking?" She'd probably humiliated herself. Let alone what Ron would think if he ever found out.

Fleur probably only responded to her attention and caresses out of some kind of sympathy or French _'joie de vivre'._

Fleur was so unapologetically French; and it wasn't just in her accent but in everything she did, even the way she moved and greeted everyone by kissing them on both cheeks. And Hermione hated stereotyping, but you know that cliche of the uptight, emotionally tight-lipped Englishwoman and compared it to the freer, more sensually unafraid Frenchwoman? Hermione was really feeling that stereotype right now; actually she was living it. Fleur was the opposite of her: beautiful, lush, carefree. They were also both married and she shouldn't have said or done anything at all.

But as she leaned back in her office chair, and another owl from the Ministry's DMLE department arrived, Hermione Granger wasn't thinking of work. She wasn't thinking of Ron or responsibility. She was thinking of Fleur's beautiful, pink cupid lips and how good it felt to press her tongue against them to pry them open. Merlin, Fleur was so beautiful that it sometimes hurt to look at how perfect her skin was, how clear and almost translucently golden her hair was. How the French woman seemed to radiate power and sensuality.

Even her mouth tasted like rose petals and dew drops. Fleur was the essence of beauty and grace. Of course she was, she was part Veela, it was in her birthright to be beautiful and there was just no comparison to an ordinary witch. Beauty ran in her blood, and her French culture and accent only added to her allure. Her charm. The way she pronounced words like 'pardon' and 'exactly' was almost too pretty. The glimmer that seemed to float in her crystal blue eyes made you feel like she held all the answers in their depths when she looked at you. Even her hips swayed in perfect synchronicity whenever she moved so that she hypnotized everyone in a room.

Fleur had been a dancer once, and it showed. There wasn't an inch to pinch or an unformed muscle on Fleur's tall, slim form. She had a body like a ballerina, with long athletic legs, balanced out by enough curves to still be more than feminine...it was almost dizzying how perfect Fleur was physically.

Hermione knew she wasn't unattractive, but compared to Fleur, any woman, including herself, found herself feeling a bit frumpy. And that is what troubled her: is that why Fleur hadn't called her back? Did she find Hermione disappointing? Did her lips and mouth not taste as deliciously intoxicating as hers did? Did being an ordinary woman and witch not compare to the Veela's standards? Or was she just devoted to Bill and that one moment they had just a temporary blur in judgment?

 _"I just wish I knew what she thought."_ Hermione pressed at her aching temples. _"It'd be easier to accept her rejection if she just told me."_

She sighed deeply as yet another owl with more paperwork arrived at her desk, including a message from her boss to hurry downstairs at 12 sharp, for an important interdepartmental meeting.

Hermione quickly slipped back on her black kitten heels before heading towards the elevator.

* * *

~o~

Fleur was humming to herself as she batted the mixture to a cake in the sunny kitchen of Shell cottage. Bill was gone, and she had the day and house to herself. It was a bit selfish to be so contented in his absence. Yet things had been somewhat awkward and unusually tense since Bill had found out about what her little liaison with Hermione in the depths of Gringott's high security gallery.

She often thought of the petite brunette. Indeed, she thought specifically of Hermione's mouth as she dipped one of her hands into the lemon cake batter and licked her index finger clean.

Hermione reminded her of lemons and sugar icing and fresh, clean things. The English woman was simple, aesthetically. Hermione wasn't a great beauty and she lacked worldly sophistication and charm, where her head and overactive mind took over. But there was soemthing special about her, and she regretted that she couldn't see her again.

 _'I don't want you to her again.'_

Bill had made it pretty clear that if she tried to see Hermione again—outside of Weasley family visits where they might run into her and had no choice to see her—that he would consider confronting and telling his brother about it.

Ron, of course, would blow up—and probably cause two divorces—if he ever found out.

For Hermione's sake, she didn't want to ruin what Ron and Hermione had together. Their marriage was much younger and probably not crumbling apart like her own. It would be selfish it she interfered with her again. Perhaps Hermione hadn't even meant what she said or did with her in Gringotts. It could've been a spur of the moment thing. When she'd been at Beauxbatons, Fleur herself had been with other girls when she was single and a teen; she'd never hidden her bisexuality from Bill either. However, she doubted that Hermione even realized what her sexuality really was or that Ron knew about it. She doubted Ron would be understanding about it either.

As much as she cared about her brother-in-law and the felicity of her own family and the Weasleys, Fleur couldn't deny that it pained her to avoid Hermione. She didn't want to wreck both their marriages or the Weasleys who had done so much for them and the war, yet...it did not dull the ache and tremor she felt whenever she thought of Hermione. She missed her, she missed her badly and it really was tearing her up inside. Of course, she was a good actress (it came with being a part Veela), so she hid her tears and Bill seemed to think she'd long forgotten about the her dalliance with the bushy-haired Gryffindor.

 _"I wonder what might've happened, if Hermione had gone to Beauxbatons,"_ she thought to herself as she remembered how the girls at Beauxbatons used to practice kissing on each other since they had no male classmates. And how some of them took it further than that, again for the same reason—no male classmates and strict curfews, almost policing the sexuality of the young female students. She imagined what might have happened if Hermione had been one of the Beauxbatons girls in blue when they were both 17 and where teaching Hermione these things might have led...

She might never have fallen in love with Bill perhaps.

Fleur pulled her long blonde hair into a high ponytail, before she moodily popped the lemon cake into the oven and sprinkled some powdered sugar on top with caramel creme. She also added fresh strawberries to a batch of _profiterole_ cream puffs and _petit fours_ she'd made in various flavours including pumpkin.

The cake and pastries looked perfect; and would taste perfect and delicious. Lemon cake and strawberry profiteroles were one of Bill's favourites.

Only now she had the idle thought of what might happen, if she Flooed to the Ministry and dropped the decadent deserts off at Hermione's office instead.

Fleur's crystal blue eyes stared hesitantly at the clock on the wall, before deciding she had enough time—and daring—to defy all her better nature, and deliver the little treat to Hermione. She didn't want Hermione to think that she'd forgotten completely about her. She might even be hurt, and they needed to talk, and if she went to the Ministry, there were so many crowds of people there, Bill would probably never know...

~o~

Hermione's eyes opened wide in shock when she saw who had slipped into the elevator with her. She had just been on her way to the Interdepartmental Meeting when she ran head-first into Fleur. Fleur Delacour Weasley, who was wearing a blue pencil skirt and white blouse and who looked impossibly elegant as always; and whom she had sworn, after a week of waiting, probably cared nothing for her. Or else why would she have avoided and not answered any of her messages for a week.

"Fleur," she began tensely, as she tried not to look too closely at her eyes and get sucked in by their beautiful, hypnotizing Veela power.

" _'ermione._ " A smile played upon the French woman's lips. "I was just about to drop off something for you at your office—" She held up a box and lifted the lid a bit so that she could barely glimpse some kind of exotic dessert within. Which was decorated with strawberries and cream. Lemon too from the smell of it.

Hermione frowned. _Really?_ Hermione thought to herself. _Was Fleur trying to bribe her with strawberries?_ Or some weird French souffle?

"It zis homemade," Fleur added calmly.

Hermione felt more confused than ever and stepped out of the elevator, so that Fleur followed her out. "I don't understand why you're here Fleur...although I do appreciate you bringing me, er, pastries..." _Oh Merlin_ , she thought, _I have a million things to say, like I don't know, 'Why on earth did you ignore for a week? Why didn't you answer the owl I sent you? Do you even like me at all? Is this reciprocated? Am I losing my mind here?.._.and yet here she was calmly discussing pastries like nothing at all had happened between them.

She didn't know whether Fleur was manipulative, or just incredibly innocent. Bringing her strawberry souffles? A week after she'd felt she'd had her heart ripped out and left to dry not knowing what to think?

"Fleur—" she began again, intending to tell her that she should go, clearly whatever they briefly had was a mistake.

But Fleur placed a finger over her lips and silenced her with the power of her stunning Veela eyes. Hermione was almost helpless as she continued staring at her large, ridiculously luminous eyes.

 _"Shh,"_ Fleur intoned and then grabbed her hand, with the free hand that wasn't carrying the pastry box, and led her down an empty corridor in the Ministry. Then into an abandoned stairwell.

"I am sorry," the Frenchwoman said finally. "I wanted to owl you and talk to you right away, but Bill found out."

Hermione's stomach felt like it was dropping. "Did—did he?" T _ell anyone,_ the unspoken words hung between them.

Fleur shook her head. "No. But he told me not to see you again. It was his condition for not telling Ron." Fleur's smile was for once sad, despite the incredible serene beauty of her face. Even when she's sad, she looks stunning, thought Hermione.

But wait—Bill knew. _Merlin_. This could lead to so many complications if Ron found out. Somehow Hermione couldn't bare Ron finding out too, and especially not Molly Weasley. Molly would probably rip her head off, and Fleur's head too, if she ever found out one of her daughter-in-laws breaking her son's heart or even stepping an inch out of line.

"Fleur we can't let anyone else find out." The brunette clasped at her aching forehead and tried to find space to breath. "And Merlin, I'm sorry my actions dragged you into this, I know now you don't reciprocate my feelings—"

Fleur chuckled and a few strands of her blonde hair fell down over her eyes as she looked down at Hermione. _"'Ermione_ , I do. I _do_ feel."

She held out her hand to grab Hermione's again. Her thumb pressed against her palm.

"Then why—" _Oh Merlin. Why was this conversation so difficult._ But then she just looked at Fleur in shock, because had this, this beautiful creature, just admitted to having some kind of feelings for her? It was almost too good to be true. "Do you really?"

Fleur nodded, the dimples appeared in her cheeks as she smirked and looked down at the box of pastry she had brought. "Taste this, Hermione, I made it for you."

Hermione found herself laughing. "Really? You turn up after a week and trying a pastry is the first thing you insist upon?"

Fleur eased upon the box so she could see it. "I was thinking of you while I made it."

Hermione stared incredulously down at the cake-souffle-like things on which Fleur had written in icing an 'H'.

" _H_ like my name," Hermione whispered to herself. _Somebody pinch me. Fleur made me deserts with my initials on them._

Fleur smiled. "I want to see you."

Oh Merlin. She should be happy that Fleur had revealed she reciprocated her feelings and this wasn't a one-off thing. But could they really end up or spend any time together without wrecking both of their marriages first? She stared at the blonde woman and tried to contain her nerves.

"Fleur. I know this is early stages and we shouldn't really be making any plans or saying that this could go somewhere or not, but I don't want you to risk Bill finding out again out, do you? I don't want to do that to you either and feel like I'm pressuring you to keep it secret—"

Fleur interrupted her and stepped forward to stared directly into her brown eyes. "Hermione we can keep this secret. Nobody needs to know. We can use an invisibility cloak next time, whenever we want to meet."

"I guess so," Hermione mumbled and wondered how she could resist such an offer.

"It will be fine," Fleur reassured her.

Deciding that was enough business and explanation—for her French sense of joy in the moment, _joie de vivre_ —Fleur dipped her finger into the pastry and lifted some of the strawberry icing to feed it to Hermione.

Hermione wondered briefly if Fleur had lost her mind, trying to spoon fed her icing in the middle of an abandoned stairway in the Ministry, but then she opened her lips and suddenly her mouth was infused with the most delicious, strawberry flavoured piece of heaven she had ever tried. Then Fleur's lips met hers next and combined with the strawberry cream and sugar.

Hermione could barely breath when they stopped their tongue-lashing briefly to pause. "I don't know why, but this whole secrecy thing turns me on a bit..." she admitted guiltily, her cheeks rosy and her body beginning to sweat underneath her tight pin-stripe Ministry suit.

.

.

Well? Do you think Hermione should see Fleur again? Or is this really just a flirtation while they don't really want to risk their marriages or family?

Also I know I have spag errors in this but I don't have a beta so if you want to beta this, send me a PM I could use some help and I beta too :)

Thanks

~siriusbarks


	3. Don't Go (dark Bill warning of abuse)

a/n- This story is unbetaed so bare with me please. BTW I am going to make Bill dark in this story because of his jealousy of Hermione. I love Bill's character but he's part-werewolf blooded and when he is near to the full moon. his patience and jealously makes him on edge and let the animal side of him show more in his personality. Sorry to any Bill fans, I honestly love Bill's character. And if you like Bill/Hermione "Felix Felicitis with a twist" wrote an amazing Bill/Hermione story called The Lightning Strike, which you can find in my favorites and which I highly recommend it, the way she writes Bill IS amazing and adorable. BUT Bill will end be a dark jerk in this story so be warned :)...Though I will probably end up rewriting this chapter though because I hate the ending of this chapter and it becomes too shocking and Bill becomes too evil. So advanced apologies, I don't think canon Bill would actually be abusive. But he becomes abusive here. Suggestions on how to improve the latter part of this chapter are appreciated as long as it's worded politely not flaming me "to never write Bill or Hermione" again.

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 **3\. Don't Go**

 _[Song: Hannah Georgas - Don't Go; Tom Odell - Magnetised]_

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Hermione swept her hands over her pinstripe suit and hair, trying to seem normal as she walked back up the hall of the Ministry—and not like someone who had just received oral sex in an abandoned stair well.

Perhaps it was the guilt, yet it felt like everyone's eyes followed her. Her co-workers looked at her behind scrutinizing, vague eyes as she passed their desks and you could hear a pin-needle drop.

Her feet and legs felt shaky as she tried to seem to normal. She took in a breath and tried to remember who she was in her power heels: _I'm Hermione Granger, I'm a powerful witch, I'm a strong, independent woman, I helped win a war, I fought Voldemort..._

But then her lips suddenly broke into a smirk.

Fleur had practically made love to her in the stairwell, throwing down the pastry box, then tangling her hands in her hair as she had unbuttoned Hermione's shirt and then ran wet kisses along with her neck...

Hermione blushed and shook her head. She had _no idea_ what was she was doing. No clue, and not even a tad bit responsible about this. But she never felt happier, thrilled. Or delighted over pastries.

If Ron ever offered her a pastry again, she'd have to laugh out loud until she turned red in the face.

"Deputy Granger," Miles Smith, her assistant chippered her as she approached back at her office. "Where were you? I was trying to Owl you for an hour until I finally had to come here." The young man looked terribly worried that his normally cross boss seemed to be suddenly going mad and uncannily happy for no reason. He bit his lip. "You _missed_ the Interdepartmental Meeting."

"Did I?" Hermione pretended to care; normally she would and would be throwing a fit and anguishing over any little mishap in the office. Instead, it was almost impossible for her to frown right now and pretend any of this mattered to her. No matter how important that meeting was. She could still taste strawberries and French in her mouth.

 _('Oui. Oui. Oui. Yes, Fleur like that, just bend your knee - Oh Merlin I can't believe I'm doing this,' she had shouted at the French woman as they had fallen to the floor of the stairwell, throwing a spell at the only door to keep it locked.)_

"Yes," Miles repeated, holding his pencil pad to him and sounding more confused than ever. "Shouldn't you be angry at me for not reminding you earlier...?"

"No, Miles. It's not your fault I missed the meeting. I knew when it was. Something came up." She tried to avoid smirking again (though it was really hard not to seem happy) and rubbed at her pencil-skirt and jacket again, making sure it was smooth and faultless. "You took down the notes for the meeting?"

"Yes." Miles gulped, clearly waiting for the other shoe to drop and for her to scream at him. "I have the Minutes right here."

He handed her the scroll of notes from the meeting.

"Good. There is no problem then." She walked away from him, leaving him gaping after her.

She probably should feel guilty for confusing her assistant; Miles had never seen her happier, or inexplicably relaxed about missing an important meeting. But then she had a spring in her step as she walked back to her office and sunk into her chair with a heavy, dizzy sigh. There was more paperwork piled up on her desk than ever...and it didn't bother her a bit.

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~o~

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"Fleur where were you?"

Bill was not pleased when he arrived early from work and she wasn't there.

"I'm zorry. Bill, I had some errands, groceries, to do." She took off her jacket and placed it on a hook on the wall, before emptying her extendable grocery bags filled with fresh chard, grapes, artichokes, bread, cheese, and some wine. She pretended to get busy at the counter; trying to sweep thoughts of Hermione out of her head (though every time she thought of the brunette a happy smirk would sneak its way on her face).

Bill grimaced and he scrubbed one of his large, almost brutal hands against his scarred face before he swept towards her and placed a territorial kiss on her cheek. "You shouldn't just go off like that. I was worried."

"It's not a war anymore, Bill, you don't have to worry about me, or, ze people disappearing."

Bill laughed humourlessly. "You'd be _surprised_ how many people still disappear." He threw one of their empty bottles of chardonnay at the fireplace. "There's still Death Eaters out there. Just ask Harry or Ron."

"I haven't asked." She tried not to shudder at how the glass shattered against the fireplace.

He stared at her with a disgruntled expression; his hands impatiently tapped at the counter while she continued putting away groceries in their cabinets, trying to avoid eye contact with him. Bill's voice was a harsh echo. "You didn't go the Ministry today?"

Fleur gulped and dug her nails into her palms. (Her hands were shaking.) "It's nothing like that. I dropped off some pastries to Ron, he's my brother in law—" That much was true; she had been sure to bring an extra box for Ron as cover.

Bill gripped at the counter, looking like he wanted to break something. "So you have no shame trying to give pastries to Ron after you screwed around with his own wife?"

"It's not like that."

When had she become such a terrible liar? It's not right, yet she was magnitized. (She didn't want everything errupting into scandal when she wasn't even sure if this thing with Hermione was a passing thing or whether Hermione would ever want her more.)

Bill pressed up against her from behind and Fleur closed her eyes, hating what she was about to do (so soon after Hermione..and yet she knew there was no other way to deflect the argument.) His hand gripped greedily at her breast through her blouse. His voice was a gentle poison. "No, you're right, women don't fuck around do they? They can't. Except my wife would never betray me would she?" he said mockingly and he pressed up against Fleur imposingly. "Cheating on me with a women doesn't count, does it? I don't know why I ever got jealous, Hermione doesn't have a dick does she?" He lowered his lips to her neck, kissing her from behind.

Fleur closed her eyes. "Please, Bill—"

She could tell it was close to the full moon and the partial-wolf blood in him was having its effect; making him more erratic, animal—

"No you know what it's all about Fleur, clearly, I'm just a stuffy Englishman trying to stop you from having your fun." He pressed his lips against her throat, barely scraping his teeth over her smooth flawless skin. "What did you do to her, touch her, did she touch you?"

"Bill—"

"Don't lie to me. What did you to her? I want you to show me."

"Why? Why are you doing this to me?"

"Because it's the only thing stopping me from going right now to the Burrow and telling my brother."

Fleur trembled.

When had what she had done with Hermione become a torture for her? Was Bill really going to humiliate her like this.

"I'm sorry, baby, please—"

"Go on. Show me Fleur right now or I'm going to tell Ron right now."

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Fleur got down on her knees before him.

At any other time, this would be fun to do with her husband.

Instead, this was humiliating because he was so angry and controlling.

She stared up at him pleadingly. She had turned red, tracks of tears lined down her cheeks.

"I don't know how I'm supposed to show you what I did with her when you don't even have—"

"A vagina?" Bill asked rudely. "I'm sorry, when you married me, I had no idea that's what you wanted. I assumed you liked what I had."

"You bastard." Fleur got back up on her feet and prepared to leave. "You can't do this to me. I'm sorry I cheated on you with Hermione, but enough is enough. I'm going to leave—"

Bill barricaded the fireplace.

"No you're not. Because if you do, I will tell Ron, and then all four of us are going to go down in scandal. You French bitch, I won't let you wreck Ron's marriage too."

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a/n: I will probably rewrite this chapter once I have a beta because the story went a bit crazy and OOC here...so yeah the story got a bit supercrazy in this chapter and again I apologize for making Bill such a mysogynist, racist OOC arsehole in this story, but it's part of storytelling to have a "bad guy". Though I don't think Bill is trying to be bad, he's just got no other defense and is mad with jealousy and under the influence of his wolf part. Anyways, let me know what you thought? Did I make Bill too misogynistic? Do you think I should tone down his language or do you think he'd lose his temper and insult her like that? What do you think would Bill's honest response to Fleur cheating on him and betraying Ron too? Would he put his own family, the Weasleys, above Fleur's happiness?

Thanks to everyone who reviewed :)


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